The bellyaching below went to a scrotum-crunching pitch.
Sore at the din of whines streaming off a pond, an incensed Bathala stormed down from heavens to face a gaggle of 54-million strong croakers who wanted an audience with the deity.
“And what is it that you, pitiable pestering crackpots turning this pond water into whine, what is it you whine for this time? I have already given you a king! A king that you all deserve,” thundered the deity. “You insufferable nincompoops can only get what you deserve. Did I not make myself clear on that point?”
Chorus of croakers whined some more: “We want a fresh mandate of heaven. A new deal is what we deserve. Whatever you gave us was an insufferable computer game addict whose only lasting legacy bequeathed to us was a word annoying--noynoying.”
“You only get what you deserve,” reiterated the deity.
“And we deserve a fresh mandate of heaven, do we not? Not the log you have tossed down here. It’s rotten and would rot some more,” bellyached the thr…